


Just an experiment

by Indefiance



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adoption, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Canon-Typical Violence, Chucklevoodoos, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indefiance/pseuds/Indefiance
Summary: The grand highblood (Kurloz makara) is bored and takes the rest of the night off to wander the land and relax. While resting by a lake he finds an orphaned wriggler and decides it might be interesting to keep around. Does ghb have what it takes to be a lusus? Will this little grub survive his custodial stylings? Would the grub have been better off with a traditional lusus? Probably. Stick around to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Technically my second fic. My first fic is on another account that was hacked. Oh well. Not super confident in my abilities and looking to improve. All feedback is welcomed. And this is still a work in progress. Don't know where this fic will go. Probably have some violence down the line. Who knows. Stick around or maybe don't.  
Also wasn't beta read. Anyone wants to beta read my fics, feel free my dude. Also there will be more chapters I just done know how to use this website

It was late into the night and Kurloz Makara was bored. The night dragged on as usual, slaughter and bloodshed, bringing the wicked scripture to the unworthy blasphemers who shared his mortal plane. While this always brought him where he needed to be, sometimes he just needed a break to clear his pan. In his vast authority over himself and the oh so many far beneath him, he elected to walk the land and enjoy the brisk night air. 

In his travels, he found an old lake that he would frequent in his wrigglerhood. He sat at the edge of the water and gazed up into the night sky with a fondness and admiration he would typically reserve for the mayhem he would regularly reek. Though as with most everything he enjoyed, his admiration stemmed from his most righteous of beliefs. When he enjoyed his momentary peace and solitude and took in the majesty of the dark night sky, it's two radiant moons, and the cool glow of the trillions of stars that shone upon him, he knew he was truly blessed to hold his own skin in this miraculous existence. He ran his scared fingers through damp grass, delighting in the nestalgia and cool wet sensation. Picking up a handful of small stones, he tossed a few across the dark water, disrupting the still reflection of the glorious sky. 

Kurloz was stirred from one of his rare moments of quiet tranquility by the soft sound of rustling from a nearby near by bush. He was plainly large enough to discourage anyone from challenging him even with his back turned. There was no real reason to give quiet rustling any concern. Though Kurloz was never one to ignore his own even mild curiosity. He found life is generally more fun that way. 

Upon inspection, he found something mildly surprising but ultimately not too uncommon. It was a plump wriggling grub. A pathetically small rust blood with a curly mop of hair hanging loosely in its face and symmetrical horns. Both stuck out in similarly obtuse and slightly forward angles, slightly curving inward with four knots running up the exterior. He picked up the grub and held it at eye level in momentary inspection. It squeaked in fright at being handled and wriggled in his hand. It was an unimpressive thing. He sat back down by the lake with the wriggler in hand. Didn't seem too bright even for a wriggler to be so easily found and plucked from the ground. Didn't even notice him until it was picked up. He should do it a favor and cull it now before it has any aspirations to be anything but another shade in his murals. There doesn't seem to be any agitated lusus nearby looking for it. It will likely be eaten by something else regardless. He released his steady hold and let it crawl around his open palm. The sensation of six tiny legs maneuvering around his skin was oddly amusing. He would move each hand in the path of the grub as it came to the end of the other creating an endless road. Each little step unsure until it made its way to his thumb and sunk sharp fangs into tough skin. Though the grub likely bit as hard as it could in a weak attempt to escape, Kurloz only chuckled at the hint of fight it the little life in his palm. As he watched the creature scuttle around in his hand, a strange thought crossed his mind. In his many sweeps, though he's been educated on the matter, he's never really witnessed first hand the full life cycle of his own kind. Sure he experienced his own life but for as long as he's been alive he certainly doesn't remember much of his youth. Perhaps he should spare this grubs for the sake of his own mild curiosity. Being so low on the spectrum, it shouldn't take too long to experience it's entire life cycle. Might be interesting. 

After some time of watching his little companion scurry and fight his way out of his possession, it seemed to tire itself out. He brought his hand closer to his face. It shook in his palm, too tired to really react. He took his free hand to gently prod at the grub with his index finger. It whined softly in protest but made no other indication of discontent. Carefully, he ran two fingers over the soft carapace of the grubs back. The grub trilled almost too soft to hear. Kurloz continued to pet the grub softly. This seemed to lull it into something resembling calm. He couldn't help the soft smile that spread across his face. There was something pleasantly satisfying about the way the grub was already letting its guard down for him. Perhaps it was imprinting on him. This already seemed like it was going to be an interesting experiment. When he pulled his hand away, the grub looked up at him, displeased at the absence of attention and squeaked indignantly. He chuckled at the demanding little rust blood. That settled it. He stood and resumed gently petting his grub as he made his way back to his personal hive. 

In their trek to his hive, he watched his new companion closely. The grub would cautiously peek over the edge of his palm, watching as they pass by various landmarks and digging his sharp legs into the thick flesh of his hand. He tried to soothe the grub as he had before, but it flinched away from him, whimpering. He hesitated with a frown, but tried to pet it anyway, determined to get the same reaction as before. As soon as fingertips made contact, it lashed out, biting at him and trying to scurry out of his hand. Frustrated and somewhat dejected, he accepted the new sour mood of his new ward and caged it in two cupped hands for the rest of their short journey. 

Upon their arrival, he closed and locked the door behind him. He looked down at the grub in his hand. It was curled defensively in a tight ball tucked close in the crook of his fingers. "Hello little one." His words rumbled lowly like gravel rolling down pavement in his best attempt to speak gently. He got no reaction and frowned in mild concern. He's certain he hadn't suffocated the thing. He sat the grub on a tall table under a light to better inspect it. It sat there for a moment, unmoving. Eventually  
It slowly uncurled, stretching out six sharp little legs and settling to stare up and the large troll with wide brick colored eyes. A toothy grin spread across kurloz's face only shortly as the grub suddenly made a dash to the end of the table. It was quickly apprehended by one enormous hand waiting just under the table where it fell. "Now where the motherfuck did you intend on goin,grub?" He smiled again at the creature twisting frustrated in his grasp. "Suppose I should take a few measures to make ensure you don't up and kick the Shit in my motherfuckin hive. Probably need something else to call you aside from grub." The wriggling grub stilled as he spoke, more thinking aloud to himself than addressing the grub directly, regardless, his low rumbling voice shook strangely throughout its entire body. He peered down at the plump brown red grub in his hand in thought. "I will call you Mercel. For you were fortunate enough that I have taken the mercy in not only allowing you to live, but also taking you into my own hive to be my ward." Mercel didn't quite understand this current circumstance, but eventually everything would become clear. 

Deciding he should probably feed his new companion, he sat on his couch, Mercel in his lap, and did some quick research on his husktop what would be appropriate to feed a grub. In his research he found a few other potentially helpful articles he bookmarked for later. After finding the information he needed, He strode over to the fridge, pulling out a single cluckbeast wing and offered it to the grub in his hand. Mercel perked up at the smell of cooked meat. It cautiously sniffed the air, slowly stepping near the offered morsel, but ultimately wouldn't take a bite. Kurloz watched curiously. "Go on grub." He pushed the meat closer to the grub, nudging it to its mouth impatiently. "Aren't you hungry?" He thought for a moment and took a small bite in plain view of Mercel before offering it to him again. "Mmm see? Perfectly motherfucking consumable cluckbeast. Wouldn't you like some?" He nudged it again near its mouth, but only managed to smear grease on its cheek. He growled quietly to himself. "Eat damnit!" His outburst startled the wriggler and it made to run through the gap between his thumb and index finger, only to be caught by them closing firmly around the divet between his first and second body segment. It squirmed in fear and discomfort until it was set on the countertop in front of the tantalizingly aromatic cold leftover wing he was offered. Kurloz watched with mild interest as Mercel first nibbled then ravenously devoured the meat it was given. He smiled softly. There was something endearing about watching something so small and pathetic eat with such ferocity. It really is too bad the damn thing was so very low on the spectrum. He might have been able to make something rather impressive out of it. He reached into the fridge to pull out more leftovers for himself and pulled off another small piece he sat next to the wing for his grub. 

By the time he had finished his own meal, Mercel was in a fitful sleep on the countertop. , kicking and whimpering, even so early in its life, the troll is plagued with the terrors of their race. Kurloz tries to gently pick up the grub without waking it, only to be bitten. He growled and picks up his grub regardless. He heads to his own respite block, his recuperacoon more than big enough for himself and a very small wriggler, and oh so warm and inviting after a long night of an impulsive decision. Mercel, having stirred awake with the large jostling gate of the Grand Highblood, stared down at the swirling pool of neon green his caretaker was slowly being swallowed by with concern. After easing comfortably into the slime, he set the grub in the center of his chest. They both soothed into the slime for a restful sleep.


	2. Pupation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercel is no longer a grub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter

Two sweeps had passed and Mercel had   
begun his first pupation 4 months ago. Night in and night out, Kurloz would return to his hive from a long night and sleep in the same room as the pod that held his favorite companion. Though he would never let himself openly admit it, his hive felt more empty. The quiet apparent absence of a mischievous grub crawling around his hive, amusing him, weaving into his hair, it left him wanting for companionship. Some days he would toss awake in his coon, sad and frustrated, feeling weak for being even remotely distraught at the absence of some lowblood wriggler. He's the grand motherfucking Highblood. He doesn't pity himself for the absence of company, let alone some common filth. Motherfucking blasphemous. On occasion the frustration would break into him contemplating smashing the pod open and killing whatever was inside for drawing out such weakness. He would sit and stare, pacing around his respite block helpless and angry, though he could never follow through. 

Tonight however, Kurloz could feel his own electric anticipation buzz throughout his hive. He marked it on the calendar. Four months exactly. Tonight should be the night he gets his little buddy back. He sat on the floor in front of the slightly stiff silky white pod, only leaving to tend to his own bodily functions. He waited endlessly. Gently dragging his hand across it, feeling the warmth within. He could occasionally feel movement through the thick woven silk. He rumbled in subdued excitement knowing any moment now his mercel will emerge in his next stage of life and he will witness the miraculous fact first hand. It was almost day break, Kurloz was faded but attentive, when he heard the faint sound of tearing from inside the pod. Gently pressing his ear and hands to the pod, he could feel the new troll ripping it's way to "freedom". It took every ounce of restraint in him to not tear through the pod himself. He only sat back and watched as a small red faced troll ripped his way through the pod, tumbling onto the floor in front of him. 

Kurloz smiled all teeth and genuine joy at seeing the new troll in front of him. Mercel stood smiling back at the giant troll. He hugged the tiny troll into his chest, squeezing as tight as he could without hurting him. "Mercel,it's a motherfucking miracle to see you again, brother. You seem different. Did you cut your hair?" Mercel wheezed in his tight grasp, laughing when he was released. "No, I didn't get a haircut." He smiled again. " hmm, I'm sure it will motherfucking come to me in its own motherfucking time. In the meantime we should find some clothes for you, little one." Kurloz grinned as he handed a folded pile of clothes her Mercel. He spoke as He helped him dress. "Now don't up and start expecting me to always dress a motherfucker. You're no longer a wriggler. Practically a grown ass troll now, brother." Mercel nods as a black shirt is pulled over his head, catching on his horns for only a moment. "Yes sir." He looks down, adjusting his shirt and inspecting what he's now wearing. His plain black loose fitting jeans hug comfortable just over his hips, and his black t-shirt with an indigo sigil, matching his caretakers centered on his chest. He touches his chest thoughtfully. "What's this?" Kurloz smiles wider at the question, a wave of possession wringing through him at another troll wearing his sign. "That is a capricorn, brother. It is my sigil." Mercel thinks for a moment. "Is it my sigil too?" Kurloz smiles, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. "No, little one. But we'll discuss this another time. I'm sure a motherfuckers gotta be starving after four long months without a taste of nothing in your chute." 

As Kurloz retrieves meals he had partially prepared earlier in the night, Mercel sits at the bar and watches. He's watched the troll prepare food for them countless times as a grub, but everything seems so different now. He sits quietly reflecting on all the new changes. He absently runs his new hands across his body, the texture of fabric all the more rough against his soft skin. He looks down at the indigo sigil on his shirt again and then at the many colorful Capricorn scrawled across the walls among various other images all in various hues of dried blood. He had grown accustomed to the smell as a grub but for some reason the smell has made itself known once more. He looks back to his caretaker. "Do I have my own sigil?" Kurloz didn't look up from his task. "I'm sure you do, motherfucker. But that shit is lost to time at this point. Not that it much matters. You got my sigil and that's all you motherfucking need, brother." Mercel didn't quite understand, but for the time being, accepted the answer. 

After a good meal, both trolls knocked out hard all the way till midnight


	3. Rebelious pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older now, mercel is restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been sitting around in my Google docs for a while now. Might as well get it out. Kind of half baked but I enjoy rereading it occasionally. Hope y'all get some enjoyment out of it. Sorry I didn't put more effort.

Every Night and every sweep Kurloz watched his little experiment grow and develops. He was a ferocious little thing. It amuses him to no end to watch him try to sneak up and attack him. His ambition was admirable. The kid seemed fearless even in the face of the grand Highblood himself. The daring little fool would go so far as to steal from his plate with no remorse or fear of repercussions. Yes he was shaping up to be a fine troll. If he weren't so very low on the spectrum, Kurloz might want him for a protege. He was a perfect candidate. He could never bring himself to discourage his behavior. It was far too amusing and refreshing to see such a small troll take from life with such reckless abandon. The kid reminded him of himself. 

Eventually Kurloz saw it fit to teach his companion how to fight. If for any reason, to defend himself should some incredibly dimwitted troll think it would be a good idea to break in while he was away. It also couldn't hurt to give Mercel something to do. An outlet for all his energy. Mercel seemed to thrust himself entirely into the thrill of sparing. His ferocious personality truly shown when he got to fight. 

\----------------

Mercel had been stewing for months now. He's been training since he was four sweeps old. Every night he would spar with kurloz. He's well built. He knows how to handle his clubs. Still, he's never been permitted to set foot outside of the hive. Every day Kurloz leaves and returns, the smell of dirt and blood and freedom waft from his body. It burns him inside. He's nearly eight sweeps and Kurloz won't even discuss him leaving. He's lounging on the couch sulking when the Grand Highblood opens the door to his hive. 

Kurloz stops in front of the couch, lifting Mercel before flopping backwards on the massive piece of furniture, holding the smaller troll to his chest. "Hello little grub." Mercel rolls his eyes at the pet name but accepts being lifted and maneuvered. He relaxed against the older troll. Kurloz trills softly as he pets Mercels back and unwinds from a long night. The young troll begrudgingly relaxes into the soothing feeling of large rough hands running up and down his back. As he laid docile across Kurloz chest, he thought hard. His pan is rotting in this hive. If only the highblood took him seriously. He's not a wriggler anymore. There had to be some way to show him he could be trusted to do… anything really. Run missions, socialize, anything but rot In this motherfucking hive. 

\------------

Walking up to his hive, Kurloz bristles. Something feels wrong. He can taste a strange sort of panic in the air. As he enters the living block he's surprised to find it vacant. He stalks through his hive with purpose. The taste of fear and panic grew thicker as he neared his shared respite block. There's something else. The sharp smell of blood that he is so very familiar with. He ripped open the door to be greeted with the sight of his young ward curled on the floor, bloodied and broken, half hidden behind a recuperacoon.

He picked Mercel up to eye level by his upper arm. Mercel whimpered and whined as he was lifted and cringed under the harsh scrutiny of his caretaker. Kurloz seethed at the sight before him. His left horn broken damn near the root, Two black eyes, an obviously broken nose, deep brick red bruises over his face and around his neck, and practically a quart of thick blood running down his face and onto the very wet front of a blank black shirt. "What the motherfuck happened here?!" Mercel only whined. Kurloz growled, tightening his grip and shaking him roughly. "WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED MERCEL? SPEAK MOTHERFUCKER!" Mercel hissed in pain. Red brown tears started to pool in his waterline. He wheezed out a weak response. "I left." Kurloz could hardly contain himself. He spoke through gritted teeth. "And. Why. The. Motherfuck. Did you think that was a motherfucking acceptable thing to do, motherfucker?" He brought his hand to the jagged stump that used to be his left horn. "And what the fuck happened to your horn?! That shit ain't growing back." Mercel didn't respond. He just hung limp in the highbloods grip and let himself be carried off to be cleaned.

Kurloz set Mercel in the oversized tub and pulled off his clothes to clean him and assess the damage. Mercel let himself be moved and undressed, hissing occasionally if he was moved wrong or something passed over an open wound. Kurloz sprayed him off with the extendable shower head in warm water. Mercel hissed at the sting of warm water in his cuts. Carefully he drew his legs loosely near his chest to rest his arms on. They both watched as his blood diluted in water and swirled down the drain. 

Mercel felt so small letting Kurloz wash him. He was used to the excessive handling and normally it felt more warmly intimate. But now all he wanted to do was shrink away into nothing and wash down the drain with the rest of the filth. His left eye had swollen shut and his right eye was almost as bad. The red blood jolted when he felt the cold plop of shampoo in his hair, soon followed by clawed fingers massaging it into his hair and scalp. His body started to relax, though the fear and panic of the conversation he knew would come still tightly constricted around his lungs. His mind raced trying to think of a better explanation for why he left than the truth.

He couldn't think of anything before the Highblood spoke." So tell me, with all the general mirthful motherfucking living standards I so generously provide, why did a motherfucker think it was a good idea to fucking leave? And why did you think you had the motherfucking right to do so?" Mercel didn't answer, only watched the muddy red water run down the drain. Kurloz grabbed his good horn and angled Mercels head to stare up at him. "Motherfucker can you even see me past your own swollen flesh?" Mercel answered quietly. "No." Kurloz rolled his eyes and left momentarily to return with a pocket knife. He made four small cuts around the smaller trolls swollen eyes. More blood started flowing lazily from each cut, slowing deflating the swollen flesh. With a majority of the blood washed away and no clothes to hide, Kurloz could see the deep bruises all over mercel. His ribs seem to have gotten the worst of it. Kurloz growls to himself in frustration. "What were you hoping to accomplish my leaving?" Mercel mumbles something to himself. Kurloz is having none of it. "SPEAK UP MOTHERFUCKER." A rage burns inside Kurloz watching his little grub act so pathetic. He sure as motherfuck never taught him that shit. Acting every bit of sniveling cluckbeast shit as any other common filth. Mercel finally pipes out an audible response. "Because I wanted to show you I could!" Kurloz barks in laughter. "Obviously motherfucking not! Look at you. Why weren't you wearing my sigil? Could have saved your sorry ass a lot of pain at least." Mercel's bloodpusher squeezed tight. "Not only were you beat within an inch of your life, you're not supposed to leave at all, motherfucker." " I thought I could-" Mercel was cut off. " I don't give a motherfuck what you thought brother. You thought wrong. You're never leaving." The younger troll furrowed his brows, confused and offended. "And why the motherfuck is that?" "Because I own you." That hard truth was a bigger blow than anything he received that night. The stab of emotional pain plain on his face, he hung his head.

Kurloz rinsed off the smaller troll and turned off the shower head. Though Mercel had gained some weight and muscle in his training, he still looks so small and pitiable. His bruised body and missing horn only adding to the pathetic wriggler sat bare assed and soaking wet in front of him. Kurloz sneered and set to roughly towel drying him. Mercel, physically and emotionally beaten down as he was, still found it in him to be angry at how demeaned he felt being washed and dried like an invalid. He grabbed at the towel. "Moth-stop it motherfucker! I can dry my own motherfucking self!" He tried to snatch the towel away, only for it to be held out of reach. Kurloz grinned for only a moment, his outburst both irritating given the situation, yet as amusing as it always is. "Can you motherfucker?!" Mercel growled and tried to jump for the towel, only to slip and land on his battered ribcage. He yelped and curled in pain, a low drawn out groan wheezing out as he rode out his mistake. Kurloz grinned down at the display. "Apparently not" he finished drying him and stood to leave."Meet me in my study when you finish dressing." 

Mercel watched the highblood leave. He sat and sulked for a moment before crawling out of the rub. Everything hurt, but he did feel somewhat better having all the blood and dirt and sweat washed away. Slowly and carefully, he pulled his clothes on, hissing at every sharp pain that moving caused. Bending to pull on his pants was probably the worst of it, right next to lifting his arms to slip the shirt over his remaining horn. After he was dressed he limped his way to the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little more in the docs that follows but not enough to post. Might add more and eventually post


End file.
